


Communication Without Words

by InsaneRedDragon



Series: Grains of Sand [23]
Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-09-15 02:42:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9215180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsaneRedDragon/pseuds/InsaneRedDragon
Summary: For the prompt: James knows how to get Percival to express his feelings.





	

A different man might sit at the dining room table, two drinks poured, and wait silently for their partner to return home. Or light some candles and draw a hot bath to usher their husband into once he’s through the door. But James wasn’t any other man, and instead he was laying on the couch with his laptop propped up on his chest. He had started out the evening searching for some new books, and it had spiraled out of control, leaving him currently looking for the perfect cat grabbing piggy bank.

Richard had called earlier to let James know that he was on his way home. His voice had been flat, emotionless; a rote repetition of his actions for the next hour or so. James hadn’t been rattled, he simply acknowledged Richard’s plans and replied that he’d be waiting when he arrived. They’d navigated these evenings enough times for James to know what to expect, and there was nothing to do but wait for Richard’s arrival.

It was Percival who had been called on for the intense three day mission, and Richard had easily donned the detachment that his mantle required. He would pack away his emotions for as long as the mission required, leaving nothing but efficiency and professionalism. It was what made him a lethal sniper and a top agent.

What wasn’t easy was setting aside the job and becoming Richard again once he was home. He had told James once that it was easier to keep everything boxed up, that facing his emotions head on in the bright light of their shared home became the mission he was sure some day he’d be unable to complete.

James heard the front door open, and he sat up and put the laptop aside on the coffee table. From the foyer came the sounds of Richard hanging up his coat and taking off his oxfords. He noted the thunk of his keys hitting the entry table a touch too hard, the rustle of the mail as it was sorted. James waited, seated sideways on the couch, one foot on the floor and his arm draped over the back.

Silently, Richard appeared in the doorway. He still looked the Kingsman knight - hair carefully styled, suit without wrinkles even after the long flight back. His eyes were dim behind his glasses, and James doubted anyone looking at him would be able to tell the depth of emotions he could feel.

Richard made his way over to the armchair beside the fireplace and sat. He was silent as he stared into the flames. Cautiously, James slid from the couch to kneel at his side, making sure that Richard could see his movements from the corner of his eye. The first few times that James had done this, he’d moved too fast and Richard’s training had kicked in. James had ended up with a broken nose and black eye. (After, Richard had been full of self-reproach, but James just walked around with a beguiling smile and increasingly absurd stories on how he’d gotten them.)

A log in the fire popped, and Richard’s hand clenched against the armrest, but his eyes remained blank. James reached up and gently slipped the glasses from Richard’s face. Folded and set on the table, he reached next for the watch, gently undoing the band and setting it beside the glasses. With practiced ease, James leaned in and slowly worked to loosen the knot of his tie. James didn’t touch his skin, not yet encouraging more than the ritual stripping of Richard’s armor. When he finished, the tie set safely away and the top two buttons of Richards shirt undone, James finally saw the spark beginning to return to Richard’s eyes.

Slow and deliberate, James let his fingers brush over Richards wrist. Under his fingertips he feels the thrum of Richards pulse, and how for just a moment it seems to skip a beat. James drops his hand and sits back on his heels, already noticing the easing of Richard’s perfect posture. With a final glance at Richard, James stands up and crosses to the far wall and starts to flip through their extensive vinyl collection.

If anyone asked how he knew what record to pick on nights Richard came home locked away, James wasn’t sure how he’d answer. He learned early on as a Knight to trust his gut. As a spy he gained the skills to notice even the most minor of details. But unlike some of the other Knights, he didn’t actively process them. His subconscious would file it all away and parse it on the fly. He learned to trust his instincts even when they lead him to conclusions he couldn't quite explain. So when his finger hovers over Take My Breath Away, he trusts his gut.

Once the record is playing, he turns back to Richard. He’s still staring at the fire, but he’s standing now, his coat off and layed over the back of the chair. It’s another piece of armor discarded, and it means James can finally touch him without risking more broken bones.

He crosses the room as the vocals start and slips his arms around Richards waist gently. Richard just sags against him as James press his chest to his back and rests his head on his shoulder. As the drums settle into their rhythm, James slowly sways them back and forth. The beat isn’t quite right for this kind of dance, but he moves them to it anyways.

It reminds him of the time they went out on James’ birthday and got so drunk they started playing random songs on the jukebox. Some of the other Knights had dared them to dance to an undanceable song and the two of them had gotten on top of one of the rickety tables and started grinding on each other until they were thrown out on their arses.

He can’t help his chuckle at the memory, and the sound seems to finally bring Richard back completely. He lets out a long, shuddering sigh before asking “What is it?”

“My thirty-ninth birthday.”

Richard pauses and then laughs softly when he figures out James’ train of thought. He covers James’ arms with his own and squeezes tight and James lets out a relieved sigh of his own. He spins Richard around so they are facing each other and starts them dancing again, properly this time.

The dance for a while, long after the final notes have faded away. Richard’s head rests on James’ shoulder and James lets his mind wander now that Richard has finally shed Percival’s mantle. Eventually, Richard stops moving and lifts his head to meet James’ eyes.

“Thank you.”

James smiles and leans in, letting his lips brush against Richard’s. “I’ll always be here to bring you back, love,” he whispers, before closing the distance and pressing a tender kiss to Richard’s lips.

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on tumblr: [insanereddragon](http://insanereddragon.tumblr.com). I'm always open for 100 word drabble and ficlet prompts.


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